Lothan takes aim and fires once again at the leader.
Wilam scans the rooms almost unsure for a second, as if wondering how far this altercation was going to play out. Then he shakes his head and steps up beside Lecian swinging his club with a quick backhand stroke into the solar plexus of the half-orc who was threatening the mage.
Lecian takes a step back and focuses on a small wooden object in his palm and chants arcanic words, granting himself insight with True Strike.
Tyrrol gives Mordecai an odd look as he casts his spell, but not being one to say no to a gift when it is running past him at high speed, brings his flail around in a mighty swing, attempting to smack the half-orc as he rushes past...
Paying the fleeing half-orc no further heed, he turns his attention to the ale-drinker:
Kuva's falchion rips under Brusk's guard and cuts to the bone in his thigh. Blood immediately wells around the blade and spurts out when the halfling wrenches his blade free.
Lothan's arrow plunges into Luki's back and the tip emerges from his chest near his left armpit. Luki spins to look at the archer before dropping to the floor.
WHen Kuva turns to face Brusk, the un-named chewer tries to scythe his greatsword through the halfling's waist.
GSword .. damage
Brusk simultaneously chops downward attempting to bifurcate Kuva vertically.
GSword .. damage
Wilam's blow stops the half-orc cold but the halforc's mace flies forward from a nerveless hand. It is just wide of Lecian as he begins his second spell.
Tyrrol's flail similarly stops the fleeing half-orc cold. For a second a grim symmetry is formed between the fallen door guards on Tyrrol's left and right, then he spins and cuts down the ale-drinker beside him.
Lecian's eagle appears near the injured chewer. Slashing talons rip the half-orcs face open. He falls backward, red spittle and leaves mixed with blood.
All the half-orcs are down except Brusk, who is pretty badly injured. Driven by rage and the glory of Gorum, he continues to fight on.
Initiative, Round 3
Gnome ...21
Kuva ... 19
Mordecai 17
Lothan . 14
Brusk 15
Wilam .. 12
Tyrrol .. 12
Lecian .. 6
With only one opponent remaining, and none being in his immediate vicinity, Tyrrol returns to leaning against the table, watching with interest as events unfold...
Kuva's falchion rips into Brusk's torso and splinters ribs as it exits. The half-orc falls to the floor.
The gnome crawls out from under his table. "What are you going to do with them?" he asks while looking around at the groaning bleeding halforcs.
Most of the halforcs are still alive. A few moments neglect will end them all.
Lothan, noticing Kuva is covered in red, walks over to him to see how he is faring, "Kuva, I really hope that's mostly half-orc blood. Because if it's not, you are going to need some serious healing." He looks at the two dead half-orcs and is truly impressed with how deadly this halfling is. This one truly has a fire for battle! I wonder if it's learnable?
Mordecai steps behind the bloody halfling with a soft murmur, as he casts a spell. "Fen Neken."
Recognizing that the spell had minimal effect, he repeats the words louder, Fen Neken!
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Kuva stares blearily at Lothan for a moment, processing his words slowly. "It's not. And I do." He half-faints before Mordecai heals him, falling to the floor - even the first surge isn't enough to bring him to consciousness. The second spell brings him back - he sits up, coughing blood and chew juice. "Half-orcs," he hacks, spitting blood. "All muscle, no endurance." He laughs feebly at his own statement, looking around at the carnage covering the room. He grunts appreciatively. "Good work, all around."
Mordecai turns to begin binding the wounds of the fallen half-orcs.
Given a choice between allowing someone to die of neglect, or personally killing them and taking the credit (or blame) for that act, he'd rather make the choice himself...
"If we intend to kill these fools, we should do so now." he says, matter-of-factly, hands already red with the blood of one whose spurting arm he is tying off with a strip of cloth.
"Here." Lothan reaches into his backpack and pulls out a three of his healing potions. "Take these. You're going to need them." He hands them over noticing that the halfling is still bleeding from several wounds. "By the way, most impressive show versus these two brutes! Most impressive!" He nods in a congratulatory manner.
Turning to Mordecai, "I'm not interested in killing those that are still breathing. I'm also not interested in helping them survive, either. Now the rest of you can do as you will but as far as I'm concerned, let the gods determine wether or not they live or die. I will assist in removing them from the goblin, though."
Tyrrol regards the fallen half-orcs dispassionately.
"I am not particular fussed either way, but if you wish assistance moving them, Mordecai, I am willing to lend you a hand. Where exactly do you want them, and do you want the live ones placed somewhere different to the corpses?"
"Might as well toss them in the rooms down that hallway, we barely rent them anyway. Just bind them. It will go poorly for us if Boss Croat receives word of our response to his business proposal too quickly... I'd prefer to be on the ship before he can mobilize another group of thugs."
Looking up to the others, "I do apologize if the wrath of the goddess has caused you any discomfort. I can only stay her hand from a few individuals, and hoped that you would be stronger souls than those thugs sent to harry us."
To Kuva, who still appears quite the worse for wear, "I have access to more healing for you, in a moment, I just wish to make sure that these former employees do not expire. We didn't pay them nearly enough to warrant their lives..."
After binding the last wounds necessary, he'll reach into his tunic and produce a slender wand of entwined black oak and white ash, and invoke it's power.
"Does anyone else require magical healing?"
Three customers and the dealer are bandaged up, aided by the serving girl who went to fetch the drinks. Many expressions of pain and confusion.
Moving on to the thugs you find six are still alive including Daggers, Brusk, and the other chewer.
more soon
Tyrrol raises an eyebrow.
"That is all very well, Mordecai, but should you not be more worried about his unharmed Gnome employee rather than his unconscious Half-Orcs when it comes to giving him information?"
Nonetheless, Tyrrol will move the bodies/corpses as instructed.
...
After binding the last wounds necessary, he'll reach into his tunic and produce a slender wand of entwined black oak and white ash, and invoke it's power.
2d8+2"Does anyone else require magical healing?"
Stilson, the dealer, clears his throat. "Mordecai...?"
Tyrrol raises an eyebrow.
"That is all very well, Mordecai, but should you not be more worried about his unharmed Gnome employee rather than his unconscious Half-Orcs when it comes to giving him information?"
Nonetheless, Tyrrol will move the bodies/corpses as instructed.
The gnome speaks up, "You don't need to worry about me. I won't tell Croat anything. I hate that fat overblown bully. Just show me the door and I'll be out of town before the sun rises.
"I'll give you a little advice. Kill these sons of b*#!%es now. " He nods at the halforcs.
Lothan aids in helping move the unconscious/dead thugs.
Listening to the gnome speak freely, "I must say, that's pretty good advice. Lucky for these scum, though, I'm not a cold-blooded killer."
Mordecai ponders the fallen half-orcs. I suppose hobbling them, or leaving them sightless, would eliminate any future threat from them, and send a powerful message...
He is distracted from these thoughts by his dealers comment. "Yes? Are you badly hurt?"
Stilts, the dealer, is a halfling. In addition to the ravages of Mordecai's hunger, he fell from the broad step stool he uses to get up to table height and suffered a nasty bump on the back of his head.
He shrinks back a little before answering, "You asked about healing, and neither I, nor our guests have fared well. It just seems fare that we get set up on our feet and maybe a meal. I'm awful hungry."
Two of the patrons are talking too each other, comparing injuries, but the third nods to support Stilts' plea.
Listening to the gnome speak freely, "I must say, that's pretty good advice. Lucky for these scum, though, I'm not a cold-blooded killer."
The gnome replies, "You'll not get better today. Ignore it at your future peril."
"Stilts, take our guests into the kitchen and eat whatever you want."
Lecian looks long and hard at the still-living half-orcs. "Let's take the live ones and chain them in the cell where Saul kept his animals."
"Stilts, take our guests into the kitchen and eat whatever you want."
Lecian looks long and hard at the still-living half-orcs. "Let's take them down to the cell, where Saul kept his pit fighting animals, and chain them up there.
Tyrrol shrugs.
"As I said before, I am not particularly fussed with what happens to them. If you want them in your dungeon, that is your business, but I will help transfer them there."
Mordecai's eyes light up as he remembers the tunnels below the arena. Indeed, we might as well leave them tied up in Saul's little hideyhole. There's no chance they'll show up again before we set sail from this place.
And if the former staff and patrons strip the place bare, so be it. Less for Boss Croat to seize.
He sets to dragging bodies down the stairs, as he'd rather get them out of the main room, out of a perverse sense of tidiness, in this place that he's already abandoned...
The patrons look unhappy. Stilts looks resigned.
It doesn't take long to drag the halforcs down and secure them in the cells near the fighting pit.
Lecian and Mordecai :
Getheldam Golemheim tries to help you move the halforcs. He is quite anxious to see where you are putting them and seems very satified with the lack of creature comforts in their cell. "Next best thing to killing them, I suppose."
He looks at the party sideways. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to gamble a little for a fairly large score?"
What is the gamble, and what is the score? Mordecai asks, wiping sweat from his brow after hauling the heavy (and smelly) half-orc down the stairs.
Croat is likely to want us dead anyway, I wonder if this can get worse?
He mutters to Lecian, as they deposit the half-orcs in their new home;
The tunnel might be a safer route to the ship than crossing town, when the time comes.
Lothan's ears perk up to the words of "a fairly large score" from the gnome and listens intently for an answer to Mordecai's question. This could be exactly what I've been waiting for. Maybe my luck is FINALLY turning around.
Lecian raises a brow. "What's on your mind, Getheldam?"
Wilam seems unconcerned about the fate of both the half-orcs and the patrons. He just snaps "Do whatever you think is best." when the others discuss the situation.
'Curse these fools and their bar. They should have said whatever was necessary to get this over without bloodshed. Ahhh well what is done is done, hopefully we can still make it to the ship.' He turns his head slightly when Getheldam mentions the score, but his eyes narrow and a scowl crosses his face.
Getheldam clears his throat and vaults onto a chair. "As a trusted, by which I mean forcibly indentured, servant of Boss Croat I am privy to a number of likely caches of money or valuables. If we can reach the holders of one or more of these caches before they learn of the termination of my employment, I can receive the holdings in Croat's name. I would require the accompaniment of suitably hirsute, muscular, and toothy companions. That is where you come in." The gnome pauses for breath.
"The venture is not without risk, but after tonight's escapade you are on Boss Croat's bad side already. Will you join me?"
Mordecai curses the fates that led to Lecian and himself speaking nearly a double handful of languages between them, and none in common save the common tongue itself.
This sounds like a fortuitous opportunity, as we are leaving town anyway. he says agreeably, nodding to Lecian that he would like a word. If I may discuss it with my friend, here, for just a moment...
To Lecian, whispered, I think the rodent means to secure some item of value for himself, and escape in the confrontation with whatever guards this cache he means to lead us to, leaving us alone to face Boss Croat's wrath, while he skips town with pockets full.
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While Mordecai and Lucian step away to discuss, Kuva stays, grilling the gnome.
"To gamble is one thing, but to do so without knowing the stakes is for fools. What sort of cache are we to be robbing? To risk life and limb for a djinn's fortune, perhaps worth the risk. For a pair of coppers to rub together, not so much."
"Hmmm. Cache may not have been the most apropos word selection. "
"Over the years I have invested funds on Boss Croat's behalf with a number of people. My plan is to call those investments in, on our behalf. I have in mind 15 or so individuals with investments totaling perhaps 20,000 marks. Although I doubt that they will have all the cash on hand. We might clean up 8 or 9 thousand marks in a day's work. I'll take half, and you take half."
Sense Motive:
Lecian whispers back to Mordecai. "I dunno. I think he just wants to stick it to Croat and needs help doing it." He turns to the gnome. "What exactly is it that you need us to do?"
Tyrrol continues to watch the exchange with interest.
"Well, if he is liable to want our heads *anyway*, I see no harm in further incensing him. I had no particular plans for a long-term residential arrangement in this city in any case... However, I am perfectly willing to defer judgement to those who know the politics of this city better than I."
Getheldam replies, "I never travel without an escort. Were I to show up alone, suspicions might arise. Hence the need for suitably hirsute, muscular, and toothy companions. I noticed a bit of spellplay during the fight. Can any of you disguise the others to look like halforcs? That would help immensely." He frowns slightly, "Oh, and if the gamble fails I would expect you to acquit yourselves in the manner in which you've shown yourselves capable."
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"Is no one to notice that your other guards have left? What if they ask questions about our friends here?" Kuva nods his head towards the room where the downed combatants lie. "I don't think everyone else possesses Brusk's 'keen intellect,'" he says sarcastically - "they might be wary of our taking these not-caches."
Listening to the conversation between the lot, Lothan chimes in, "I'm in. I can't help but agree with Tyrrol. If Croat is already angered with us, I say we make him angrier and make a little money doing it. I've got no problem sticking it to these crimelords." He finishes. But then after just a moment he thinks of something else he would like to make clear, "Any of them!"
"Is no one to notice that your other guards have left? What if they ask questions about our friends here?" Kuva nods his head towards the room where the downed combatants lie. "I don't think everyone else possesses Brusk's 'keen intellect,'" he says sarcastically - "they might be wary of our taking these not-caches."
"I'll be missed. Croat won't care about them beyond that. He's a stupid brute who won't think much beyond the fact that I'm not back and he doesn't own a gambling parlor yet. Without me to tell him to, I doubt he'll even consider my access to these other accounts." The gnome pauses for breath. "Of course you have a point. He'll probably send some here to inquire as to my whereabouts."
"I cannot disguise us. Perhaps, if it's believable that Croat would hire a gnome, it's believable that he would hire others who aren't half-orcs, as well." Lecian considers Kuva's words and then asks Getheldam, "Is it out of the ordinary that for you to withdraw these investments at this time of the day? Would tomorrow morning be a better time to get these caches?"
Getheldam replies sharply. "I didn't say let's go now. Of course tomorrow morning would be better. It's unfortunate you can't disguise us, but if my escorts are large enough and look tough enough, it will serve. Croat favors halforcs, but there're not enough of them in the city to carry out all that man's evil. He has other minions as well."
Tyrrol looks up, and grins unsettlingly, before chirping-up in a bright and rather cheerful voice:
"Well now, if you are wanting large, well-muscled, and above all, intimidating back-up, I dare say that we might be able to be of some of assistance."
He then glances at the the patrons and staff members.
"However, if we are going to do this in the morning I dare say it would be better if those not directly involved in all of this enjoyed the hospitality of Mordecai's best state rooms... at least until tomorrow afternoon. That way, we avoid the possibility of any little tongues wagging and causing all sorts of problems for us!"
He then shrugs.
"We could just cut them out, of course, but that does not strike me as being particularly sporting, and seems to be rather poor form, too..."
Tyrrol then grins mirthlessly.
"Personally, I think that they should make the best of this situation, and eat, drink, and be merry, so that tomorrow they do not die..."